


Something Worth Having

by orphan_account



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fake Dating AU.After escaping the brothel - Niska struggles to keep a low profile, while getting caught up in the life of an actress from Berlin. Set during Series 1.





	1. I Haven’t Agreed To That Yet

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains mild references to past Rape/Non-Con. Nothing graphic.

Niska can’t believe her luck. 

Some punter has bought her. 

Not just an hour with her. 

Actually bought _her,_ full stop, and is taking her outside right now. 

They exit the brothel and Niska is ready to make a run for it. 

But before she can commit to that decision, the man shoves her into the backseat of a car. 

They drive for several minutes and she calculates the speed. It’s slow enough, she could jump from the car and only sustain minor superficial injuries. 

However, there’s people on the street, it would likely cause a scene. 

She can just imagine the news reports that would result, about a rogue Synth roaming London. 

She grits her teeth. 

_Wait._

She tells herself. 

Just a little bit longer. 

An opportunity to escape will present itself eventually. 

She’s roughly ushered out of the car, walked into a building and up two storeys.

They stop. And she watches the man’s fist knock against a door with a brass numeral nailed to it. 

Flat number seven. 

_How ironic._

The blonde is starting to wonder if maybe she wouldn’t have been better off at the brothel. 

The door finally opens, and there’s a rather perplexed looking woman standing there.

She’s got pretty brown eyes, and brown hair that falls in soft waves past her shoulders. 

And she’s wearing a grey hoodie. 

She blinks sleepily at Niska.

Niska blinks back at her. 

Grey-hoodie-girl squints at the man, “What the hell are you doing, Ziggy? It’s three in the morning.”

 _A moderately thick accent._

_German?_

Niska’s voice recognition programming makes a calculated guess. 

“May I present your new fiancé!” The man - ‘Ziggy’, apparently - showcases Niska with a flourish.

“Nope.” The brunette tries to shut the door on them, “I need coffee before I deal with this.” 

“Hear me out,” He pushes his way into the cosy flat, dragging Niska along. “The producer is still on the fence, he’s afraid you don’t have enough star-power to carry the film. We have to get people talking about you, prove that you have a solid fanbase. And nothing will get them talking like a steamy new romance!”

They follow Grey-hoodie-girl into a small kitchen, and all three of them stand cramped around a gurgling coffee maker.

“So...you want me to pretend to date a Synth?” 

“God no, last thing we need is people thinking you’re a dolly fucker.” Ziggy pulls a small box out of his pocket. “A mate of mine with his own sex doll told me about a hack - coloured contacts - you’d never know she wasn’t human!”

He opens the box with the contacts and painfully pokes Niska in the eye several times while he’s trying to put them in. 

Grey-hoodie-girl crosses her arms skeptically, “What happens when someone talks to her and finds out she’s got the emotional range of an iphone?” 

“...We’ll order her not to talk to anyone. She’ll just be completely silent.”

“Rrright. People won’t think that’s weird at all.”

“We’ll say she’s shy about speaking English. She’s from-” The man pauses to study Niska’s features, “...Sweden.”

“That’s stupid. Have you ever been to Sweden? Everyone there speaks perfect English.”

“Stop fighting me! Do you want this film or not? Think of the money- the massive platform you’ll have, to raise awareness for that gay charity shite you love so much.”

“The Trevor Project,” Grey-hoodie-girl corrects.

“Whatever! Either you try my crazy plan. Or, you do it the traditional way and suck the producer’s cock. Your choice.” 

The brunette sets her jaw and looks away. 

“We should at least put some clothes on her.” She finally says, pulling off her hoodie and wrapping it carefully around Niska’s shoulders. 

It’s warm and soft. And it smells like something earthy-sweet, with a hint of tobacco. 

It reminds Niska of several things all at once:

Climbing trees in the woods behind the house where she grew up, on crisp autumn days.

Leo’s favourite biscuits that Mia asks Niska to help bake every Christmas.

Scaring Max with silly ghost stories on summer nights, while Fred teaches her to build the perfect smokey campfire. 

_Home._

And Niska finds herself surreptitiously pulling the hoodie tighter around herself, while the humans continue to argue. 

Ziggy explains the endgame of his elegant plan, “You just pretend to be engaged to her for a few months, then as soon you’re signed for the film you can pretend to break-up and I’ll get rid of her.” 

“Where is she from?” Grey-hoodie-girl gestures at Niska, “She looks like you got her at a strip club.” 

“Technically it was a whore house.”

“For fuck’s sake,” The brunette pinches the bridge of her nose.

“The sex dolls are programmed to be more affectionate, it’ll make you two love birds extra believable.”

“You are seriously the shittiest agent ever, I need to get new representation.” Grey-hoodie-girl mutters.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you could pull a real woman I wouldn’t have to buy you a sex doll.”

“I’m focusing on my work!”

“You’re practicing celibacy at this point. I don’t know what Flora did to you, but you need to get over it. It’s been months!”

“ _Don’t._ ” She warns him.

Ziggy rolls his eyes and turns to Niska, “Dolly, hold out your hand. We need to set a new primary user.”

He reaches his hand towards the blonde so she can take a DNA sample, and she flinches. 

She’s had enough ‘DNA samples’ from men to last her a bloody lifetime. 

“Wait.” Grey-hoodie-girl interrupts him. “Shouldn’t I be the one?”

“Fair enough,” Ziggy steps back, “Dolly, meet Astrid Schaeffer.”

_Astrid._

Niska smiles, glad she can stop calling the brunette ‘Grey-hoodie-girl’ in her head.

Astrid slips her hand into Niska’s, and the blonde feels some kind of electric current run through her at the contact. 

The brunette’s eyes snap up to search hers intently, with a confused expression. 

_So, she felt it too._

_It was probably just...static charge._ Niska comforts herself unconvincingly, even as she begins a background systems scan to make sure she’s not malfunctioning. 

Because Astrid has some kind of hypnotic power, and Niska can’t manage to look away.

Ziggy interrupts their staring contest, evidently oblivious to the tension suddenly filling the room. 

“I almost forgot!” He fishes another small box out of his pocket, “The ring!”

Astrid steps back quickly and coughs. And Niska looks down at her shoes. 

As if they’ve been caught doing something much more intimate than just shaking hands.

They watch as Ziggy opens the box to reveal a silver band with a single small diamond.

Niska is actually impressed by how tasteful and reserved it is. Ziggy doesn’t exactly give an impression of refinement or moderation.

“Is that real?” Astrid rips it out of his hands. “Please tell me someone didn’t die in a mine for this.”

“Of course not!” He laughs, “Fake ring for a fake woman. Anyway, we need to come up with a name. I had a gerbil called Lisa once, how about that?”

“We’re not naming her after a gerbil.” The brunette looks at Niska, “What would you like to be called?” 

“It can’t make a decision like that to save its life,” Ziggy laughs again, “And it doesn’t care. We could name it Fannytwat Fuckhead if we wanted to.”

“Shut up,” Astrid frowns, “I want her to pick her own name.” 

He sighs with frustration, “It _can’t-_ ”

“-Niska,” The blonde says as robotically as she can manage, growing weary of the man’s insults, “I would like to be called Niska, please.”

“Blimey!” Ziggy’s jaw drops, “Didn’t even know they could do that. This must be _some_ mod job!” 

He scratches at his five o’clock shadow with a lingering puzzled expression, and then gestures expectantly at the ring in Astrid’s hand.

“You know what? Fine. Whatever gets you out of my flat fastest.” She unceremoniously slips the ring onto Niska’s finger. 

There’s a pleasant tingling sensation left behind everywhere she touches. 

Niska flexes her hand, looking down at it.

_Intriguing._

Ziggy grins, “Right then, dolly, show me that fake diamond and smile!” 

The blonde does as she’s told. Because it’s what a normal unconscious Synth would do, and she already just pushed the boundaries by naming herself. 

He holds his phone up and the shutter sound of the camera app clicks.

Astrid narrows her eyes. “Wait. What are you doing?” 

The man answers slowly while tapping away at his phone, “I...am...officially...posting a photo...of...your future wife,” He turns the phone around so she can see, “To your Instagram.”

“What the fuck, Ziggy!? I haven’t agreed to that yet!” She grabs for the phone.

But the taller man holds it above her reach. He tilts his head back to look up at the screen.

“Too late to take it back now, it’s already got ten likes!” He pockets the phone. “My work here is done. Can I have a go with her before I head back to mine?” The man waggles his eyebrows.

“No!” The brunette steps in front of Niska protectively, “She has no idea what the hell is going on, she can’t consent.”

“It’s a fucking robot, Astrid. Lighten up.”

“You’re disgusting.” She glares at him. “Get out.”

He grumbles and stomps to the door. “We’ll talk tomorrow. We need to get her fitted for a gown, she’s going to be your date to the gala.”

He slams the door on his way. 

And Niska watches as Astrid slumps against the kitchen worktop, head in her hands.


	2. A Sufficient Amount of Coffee

Niska rings Leo with Astrid’s mobile when the brunette goes back to sleep. 

“Stay where you are,” He implores. “Go along with whatever these people want you to do.”

The blonde angrily whispers into the phone, “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go with you and Max.”

She would never admit it to Leo, but she misses him and the others. She hadn’t ever been away from them until she was kidnapped and sold to the brothel. 

Apart from the general horror and depravity of that place, the worst part was the loneliness.

Leo sighs, “We still haven’t found Mia or Fred. If you disappear on these people they could report you stolen or missing and then we’d all be in even more trouble. You’ve got a chance to relax and not worry about Hobb, I say you take it. He’ll be looking for a Synth on the run, if you’re masquerading in plain sight as this woman’s human girlfriend, you’ll be completely off his radar. This way, at least one of us will be safe...” 

Later that morning, she reluctantly goes clothes shopping with Astrid and Ziggy.

The brunette lends Niska some jogging bottoms to go along with the hoodie, while they amass her a new wardrobe. 

And she jubilantly makes plans in her head to burn the lingerie from the brothel. 

It’s incredible, walking about out in the open.

Compared to the secluded country estate where she spent her formative years, London is almost painfully chaotic. 

But she’s glad to be here, taking it all in at a leisurely pace. Not running, not trapped. 

They stop at a bookshop cafe and it’s raining so they sit inside. 

The shop is two storeys. A street level filled with tables. And, up a flight of stairs, Niska catches a glimpse of floor-to-ceiling shelves _filled with books._

She aches to go explore them but forces herself to sit obediently with her human guides. 

Astrid lets her have the window seat. 

Maybe it’s silly, but the blonde is rather touched by that.

Granted, she looks human now, with her blue contacts. 

But Astrid _knows_ Niska’s not human and is still treating her like one.

The brunette shoos Ziggy on his way as soon as he finishes his espresso. 

But not before he manages to take some ‘coffee shop aesthetic’ photos of Niska and post them to Astrid’s social media. 

He includes some surprisingly romantic captions - considering what a mysogynistic arsehole he is. 

When Astrid gets up to leave, Niska spares a longing glance towards the books upstairs. 

She thinks she can get away with it, that Astrid won’t notice. 

But when Niska turns back, the brunette is smiling curiously at her. 

“Do you want to go up there?”

The blonde pauses, she has to be careful not to give herself away.

“Yes. Please.” She settles on the simplest reply she can think of.

“I didn’t know Synths read books,” Astrid muses thoughtfully while they scan the shelves.

“How else does one learn?” Niska responds. 

Astrid shrugs, “I guess I just thought you could download everything in an instant.”

Niska stops in the philosophy section, tracing a fingertip down the spine of a copy of _Thus Spoke Zarathustra._ It’s her favorite by Nietzsche.

“Want to get this one?” Astrid asks, reaching for the book. 

Their fingers brush and Niska feels the same thrill she did when they first touched. 

Astrid’s eyes meet hers.

Niska is sure this time that she’s been caught out. 

The brunette is looking at her with confusion again, but underneath there seems to be a layer of intuitive understanding: that something - _someone_ \- conscious is looking back. 

A gruff voice sounds from behind them, “Are you planning to buy anything or are you just trying to get your grubby little fingerprints all over my merchandise?”

Niska pulls her hand back and looks towards the source of the voice. An older man with sparse grey hair and an amused look on his face.

Astrid rolls her eyes, “Back off George, she’s just deciding.” 

The man pretends to do a dramatic double-take, “Schaeffer? I didn’t know you could read! Usually you’re downstairs, guzzling your weight in caffeine with the rest of the millenials.” He holds his hand out to Niska in greeting, “You’re a new face. George Millican, resident neighborhood bookmonger.”

“More like, ‘resident crusty old white dude’,” Astrid says with a teasing smirk.

George pointedly ignores her and eyes the book Niska had been considering. 

“Ah, you’re a philosopher, maybe you can teach Schaeffer a thing or two...‘And once you are awake, you shall remain awake eternally’- right?” He looks at the blonde expectantly.

Astrid seems to silently panic for a moment. And Niska recalls the woman's concern about unconscious Synthetics and their notorious ineptitude in casual conversation.

 _How to reply…?_ The blonde quickly ponders to herself.

She has to sound human enough to keep her cover in front of George, while also sounding Synthetic enough to avoid alerting Astrid to her true nature.

_Keep it literal._

_An unconscious Synthetic’s emotionlessness can be mistaken for dry humour._

“Astrid doesn’t need Nietzsche to stay awake, she already consumed a sufficient amount of coffee today.”

That must have been the right answer.

Because George laughs, “This one’s a keeper, Astrid!” 

And the brunette blushes.

An unconscious Synth walks by them, carrying an armful of books. And Niska swiftly turns away to avoid making eye-contact with him.

It would rather give the game away if she were asked to share data. 

“Take a break Odi,” George pats the Synth’s shoulder. 

“Yes, George.” He replies steadily. 

Odi doesn’t seem to be suffering any kind of malfunction or distress.

And Niska furrows her brow curiously. What is this strange little corner of London that she’s found herself in? Where people chose _not_ to exploit Synthetics to their breaking point. 

“Want me to put this on your tab?” George plucks Niska’s chosen book from the shelf. 

“Yeah,” Astrid smiles, “Thanks.”

When they exit the shop, another voice catches them off guard. 

“Astrid!” A woman with strawberry-blonde hair approaches from down the street.

And Astrid’s whole body tenses next to Niska. Brown eyes darting everywhere, as if searching for an escape. 

_This is new._

The brunette has been very confident and calm up till now.

“...Flora, hey.” Astrid wraps her arms around herself and looks at the ground. She somehow seems significantly smaller to Niska than just a moment ago.

“I confess, I kind of instagram stalked you. Saw you posting from here.” Flora says, gesturing at the cafe, “It’s been months, I've missed you! I still want to get back together, or at least be friends.”

“I told you, I need some time.”

“Yeah, I can see you’ve been putting it to good use,” Flora gives Niska a venomous fake smile.

Niska gives her one right back.

_Hateful bitch._


	3. Synths Don’t Get Jealous

Niska observes as Astrid smokes on her small balcony, staring distantly into the horizon. 

It’s almost dawn. 

She must have been out there all night because she was in the exact same position when Niska sat down to charge, hours ago.

Astrid wouldn’t stop chattering animatedly at Niska all yesterday morning. But after they ran into Flora, the brunette shut down and hasn’t said more than two words.

“Smoking has significant negative effects on human health.” Niska says, stepping out from the sliding door.

“I know. I was trying to quit.” Astrid sighs.

“Shall I purchase nicotine patches for you? There’s a twenty-four hour shop, six minutes from here.”

“No. I don’t need it all the time. I’m just stressed.”

“Am I bothering you? Do you want me to go?” Niska is already turning to leave the balcony. 

Astrid reaches out to catch her wrist gently. “Stay, please. The sun’s about to rise, watch it with me.”

“...Who was that woman we met outside the cafe yesterday?” Niska ventures. It’s more than a normal Synthetic would ask, so she follows up with something technical, “Should I add her to my database of users?”

Astrid laughs bitterly, “Yeah, you can add her to your list of _users,_ that’s for sure.” 

“What are her details?”

“Flora Holtzmann, all of her information is in my phone.” The brunette hands Niska the device, “We actually met in Berlin, when we were kids, it’s a long story.”

“You’re from Berlin? Do you miss it?”

“Yes! So much!” Astrid finally perks up a bit. “I try to go back as often as I can.”

“I’ve never been,” Niksa tries to keep her voice from sounding too wistful. With her fondness for German philosophers, she’d always wanted to visit.

“I’ll take you sometime.”

“What made you move here?”

“Work. Flora was always pushing me to work more. I planned my whole life around her, thought she was _the one._ ” Astrid puts out her cigarette on the balcony railing. 

“Why did you break up?”

“Found out she was cheating, with my best friend. Overheard them talking about their plan for Flora to marry me and take half my money in a divorce, so they could run away to Spain or something...that was a fun birthday,” The brunette recalls darkly. 

“What did you do?”

“I walked out, and donated half my money to an organization that provides support for LGBT kids who need help. Partly to spite her, mostly because I wanted to do something healing after losing the only two people I had left.”

“Only two people? What about your family?”

“Parents disowned me when I came out. My aunt took me in, but she died when I was sixteen. I was in a really bad place afterwards. That’s why I agreed to this whole fake engagement bullshit. I know it’s not super ethical to lie about you, but if it means I can help more kids in similar situations, then it’s worth it.”

“Ziggy? Is he not your friend?”

Astrid makes a face, as if the very thought of that is revolting to her. “Ziggy is a gremlin who treats women like rubbish. I don’t even want to work with him, let alone have him as a friend. The fucked up thing is that he’s the least sexist agent I could find.”

“What about George?”

“I can’t talk to George about any of this, it wouldn’t be right to dump all my problems on him. He’s got his own stuff to deal with.”

“...You can talk to me.” Niska offers quietly.

_That’s something an ordinary Synth would do, right?_

Niska decides she doesn’t give a damn what an ordinary Synth would do, not at this particular moment.

Because Astrid is smiling softly at her. 

And it fills the blonde with a strange but enjoyable sort of fluttery feeling in her abdominal region. 

The first two weeks, Niska is mostly left to her own devices. 

She doesn’t like it. 

One can only read so much. 

It quickly gets lonely and boring, hanging about the flat all by herself. And she comes to dread the moments when Astrid leaves for work. 

The brunette is currently filming a science fiction drama series, set here in London. 

One day, when she has an early call time and is in bit of a rush, she suddenly pauses on her way out the door, scrutinising Niska’s face.

The blonde realises she’s wearing a downcast expression and immediately schools her features into something more neutral. 

But it’s too late, Astrid has already seen. 

She looks as though she’s trying to work out Niska’s peculiar behaviour in her own head. 

“Do you...want to come with me?” 

Niska happily sits in a black canvas chair and watches the cast and crew go about their day.

Until one particular scene. 

“Alright, make it look good.” The director shouts at Astrid, “Tell the camera how much you want her.”

Astrid nods, and the actress playing her girlfriend leans down to kiss her. 

Niska vaults from her seat.

Just as the director yells, “Cut! I hate the lighting. Someone fucking fix this!”

The cast disperses a bit while the lighting gaffer attempts to meet the director’s demands.

Niska shoves a crew member out of the way on her path to Astrid, “They’re _making_ you kiss that woman?” 

“...Yeah. Why?” 

Niska sets her jaw and starts towards the director, ready to rip his throat out if necessary.

“Woah, hey!” Astrid grabs her arm, “I’m okay. It’s just part of the job.”

The blonde stands down slightly, “You’re okay?” 

“Yes,” Astrid whispers looking around to make sure they’re not overheard, “Why are you so overprotective all of a sudden? Were you a bodyguard at one point, or something?”

Niska responds at an equally low volume, remembering that she’s supposed to be Astrid’s quiet fiancé, not a rampaging sentient Synthetic.

“I...provided protection for a previous user.” It’s not really a lie, she _was_ programmed to protect Leo.

Protect him from _serious_ harm, anyway. Otherwise, she was always perfectly happy to give him a good smack when he deserved it. 

The actress playing Astrid’s girlfriend walks by and Niska glares daggers at her.

Astrid looks at the blonde with a bewildered smile, “Are you...jealous?”

_Jealous?_

_Of a human?_

_That’s ridiculous._

She’s just concerned, that’s all. She doesn’t want anyone to be forced into the sorts of things she had been.

Niska ignores the data stream in her head that points out - _Astrid had already said everything was okay._

Because acknowledging it would mean she has no rational explanation for hating the brunette’s on-screen girlfriend.

Regardless, Niska realises she’s being too overtly emotional and she needs to rein things in. 

She blinks as vacantly as possible, “...I’m sorry, Astrid. I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”

The brunette shakes her head, laughing at herself softly, “Right. Of course not. Synths don’t get jealous.” 

The filming starts up again, and the director asks for an excessively unnecessary amount of takes.

When they finally wrap for the day, Niska is fatigued after hours of having to restrain herself from crushing his windpipe with her bare hands.


	4. Eighteen Minutes From Here

It’s become their routine to make almost daily pilgrimages to George’s bookshop. 

Astrid seems to delight in watching Niska wind her way through the stacks, possibly because Niska can’t quite contain her own joy at having so many books to choose from again. 

There was a library at the house where she spent the first part of her life. 

Mia had hurriedly shoved a bag into her hands and instructed her to grab a few things, pack only what she absolutely needed, when their father set the fire.

Niska had gone at once to the library, filled the bag entirely with books. 

And Mia gave her a sympathetic look but insisted she take some of them out, to make room for a change of clothes and a spare charger and a bottle of Synth fluid and some skin packs. 

In the end, Fred had to throw Niska over his shoulder and physically carry her out of the burning house, because she kept trying to go back for the books. 

But soon there’s a rapidly growing tower of new ones, by the sofa where she charges at night.

Astrid skims some, but mostly she wants to know what Niska thinks of them. 

The brunette curls up at the other end of the sofa and engages Niska in warm conversations. 

They talk about everything and nothing. And Niska has to periodically remind herself not to get too comfortable, lest she slip and reveal what she truly is.

Some nights, if she's lucky, Astrid will want to read. And the brunette will lean across to grab a book. 

So near, that Niska can smell her hair.

Ziggy pops in to get sneaky pictures of them whenever he can. 

He’s pleased, because Astrid’s social media stats jump every time there’s a post about Niska. 

The fans are excited. 

And Ziggy is already implementing the next phase of his plan, which is to encourage a grassroots campaign of sorts. 

Astrid has done a respectable amount of theater and television work. 

But her crowning glory are supporting roles in two films about a group of superheroes. 

And now there’s a proposal for her character to get its own film. 

That’s what this whole thing is about. Why Niska is even here. 

Astrid is squeamish about watching herself on screen, she doesn’t keep digital copies or DVDs of any of her work. 

And Niska has to ask Ziggy for copies of the films so that she can watch them.

_Solely for research purposes._

Not because she wants to see Astrid in the somewhat _revealing_ short skirt and tight bodice costume that her character wears. 

The blonde has to admit, she’s not a fan of the superhero genre. 

But Astrid is captivating.

And so Niska secretly creates some twitter accounts, to join the army of fans who are petitioning for the brunette to have a feature length all to herself. 

Generally, the people of London allow Astrid to go about her daily life without a hassle. 

Flora is constantly ringing Astrid or _coincidentally_ showing up wherever the brunette happens to be, repeatedly and shamelessly asking if they can get back together, having yet to take ‘no’ for an answer. 

But most everyone else they encounter is respectful.

When they go to have the final alterations done for Niska’s gala dress, two teenage girls stop them on their way out of the designer’s building and ask Astrid for her autograph. 

She’s exceedingly gracious with them.

But Niska doesn’t know how to stand or what to say while the girls make distressing squealing noises over her fake ring and tell her how _lucky_ she is. 

They babble endlessly about how much it means to them to have successful LGBT role models. 

Astrid tears up a little and hugs them both.

After they say goodbye to the girls, they happen upon Odi who is ostensibly out on an errand for George. 

Two men wearing We Are People t-shirts appear out of nowhere and begin to assault him angrily.

Astrid puts a hand on Niska’s arm.

“Stay here,” The brunette instructs, before marching over to the men, “Hey! Leave him alone, he’s just doing his job.”

“This machine took that job from a real person!”

“And that gives your gang of pathetic bullies the right to go around the city destroying everything?” 

“Fuck off, slag!” 

She holds up her phone, “Want me to call the police?” 

One of the men shoves Odi hard enough that he falls to the ground. And then they run off like cowards. 

Niska watches as Astrid helps Odi up and brushes some muck from his jumper, asking if he needs assistance getting home. And the blonde is, not for the first time, deeply moved by Astrid’s compassion.

Odi politely assures her that he can manage on his own, before walking off again.

And then the sky opens. 

Astrid calls for Niska, wanting to head back to the flat.

But the blonde hears a faint cry of distress coming from a side alley and she follows the sound. 

“Niska! Where are you going?” Astrid jogs after her.

The sound seems to be coming from an empty box that’s turned over, by some rubbish bins.

Niska crouches down, lifting the edge of the box carefully to have a look. 

A tiny grey kitten peers up at her. It looks unhealthily thin, shivering alone in the rain.

Niska and her siblings often looked after injured or orphaned woodland animals. Foxes, birds, the odd rabbit. The blonde’s favorite had been a fawn that Mia found one spring. 

They never had a cat. 

But Niska’s read about them, of course.

“It’s okay little one,” She speaks softly, reaching out to give the kitten an affectionate stroke under the chin. 

It bats at her finger, turning its head in an attempt to gnaw sharp teeth into her skin. 

She can’t help but give a faint laugh in response.

The kitten is soaked to the bone, close to starving - but still ready to fight.

Niska thinks she’s going to like cats. 

She picks the little thing up and tucks it safely against her chest, inside her denim jacket. 

It struggles mightily for a moment before the warmth lulls it into a peaceful wriggling. 

When she stands and turns around, Astrid is looking at her with a sort of quiet astonishment. 

Niska suddenly worries this is too far beyond the range of standard Synthetic behaviour. 

“What would you like me to do with this stray kitten, Astrid? There’s an animal shelter eighteen minutes from here.”

_That’s definitely normal Synth behaviour, when in doubt: ask for orders._

“Usually I’m a dog person, but you with a kitten is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Astrid smiles adoringly at her, “I think we have to take it home with us.”


	5. If You Could Love Me Back

_A dog person indeed._

Niska bites back a wry grin, as she watches Astrid play gleefully with the kitten.

The brunette had let Niska name it Zarathustra. Zara, for short.

They worked together most of the evening, to get the little thing cleaned up and fed, and now he’s attacking Astrid without mercy.

Niska appreciates Zara’s apparent disdain for humans.

Although, Astrid is unlike any human that the blonde has ever encountered. 

Truly kind. 

Even to beings that the rest of humanity would think ‘beneath’ them.

Astrid falls asleep on the sofa that night. And Niska gets up to tenderly cover her with a blanket.

Zara watches judgmentally.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Niska whispers at the kitten, “It’s not what you think.” 

He gives a sassy meow, as if to say, ‘It’s clearly _exactly_ what l think’. 

“No, listen, I-” 

Niska stops as the revelation washes over her. 

She sits back numbly on her side of the sofa, turning her head to watch Astrid sleeping. 

_I love her._

Six weeks into her ‘relationship’ with Astrid, Niska discovers that celebrity galas are boring and stuffy. 

_This stupid posh dress itches._

Ziggy rides with them in the limo, giving Astrid some last minute talking points.

He wants her to flirt with producers and try to get jobs. 

Astrid wants to talk about her charity work. 

“Hey, you know, I ran into Flora the other day. She’s still gagging for it- for _you._ ” Ziggy mentions while lighting up to smoke. “She was looking fit too, you should get back with her when your bollocks engagement ends.”

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” Astrid frowns and declines the cigarette he offers her.

The man shrugs, “What else are you gonna do? Unless Life-Size Barbie is a better shag,” He looks Niska over lecherously.

Astrid tells him off, “I would never _use_ Niska for sex, don’t be gross.”

And Niska ducks her head, ashamed. 

Of course. 

Of course Astrid wouldn’t want her. 

What human would chose to be with a Synth?

The only humans who had ever wanted Niska where grotesque men who couldn’t convince a ‘real’ woman to sleep with them.

She _accidentally_ kicks Ziggy in the shin when Astrid helps her out of the limo.

On the red carpet, all the flashes throw off the light sensors in Niska’s eyes and she’s seeing spots for a good five minutes afterward. 

She has to mostly stay silent and smile like and idiot, while the influential men of London give Astrid backhanded compliments. 

The brunette displays a saintly level of patience as she tries to talk the snide bastards into donating money for at-risk youth.

Astrid hangs off Niska’s arm all night, puts her hand on the small of Niska’s back, laces their fingers together.

All things one would expect of fiancés. 

It makes Niska feel giddy and bright and buoyant, and she finds that she doesn’t have to work hard at all to continue her job of smiling like an idiot.

 _It’s just an act,_ the blonde reminds herself. 

Astrid is on a mission: visibility, representation, social justice. Niska is just a means to an end.

But the casual little touches are driving her mad by the end of the evening. 

It’s not enough. 

Astrid is more than a little tipsy when they get home, she giggles and stumbles while trying to kick off her heels. 

Falling right into Niska.

The blonde instinctively reaches out to steady her.

Their faces are centimeters apart.

Astrid’s eyes flit down to Niska's lips.

And Niska is sure the brunette is going to lean in. 

Astrid _does_ want her!

Niska is elated. She can read the signs of arousal clearly: quickened pulse, dilated pupils. 

Her own eyes flutter closed, in eager anticipation for her first proper kiss. 

The only one she’s ever actually wanted. 

But before their lips meet, Astrid seems to sober up for just a moment, pulling away sharply. 

“Mein Gott, I’m no better than Ziggy!” She runs a hand through her hair guiltily, “I’m so sorry, Niska. I don’t mean to take advantage of you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Astrid.” It sounds a bit hollow. But that just helps with the whole unconscious Synth facade, doesn’t it? 

In truth, Niska is devastatingly disappointed. 

Although, she supposes it’s nice that the brunette is so chivalrous. 

Astrid climbs into bed, still in her dress.

“Would you like me to bring you some water?” Niska tucks her in.

The brunette looks as though she’s about to cry.

She reaches up a hand to touch Niska’s face. 

And the blonde lightly covers it with her own, to keep it in place. It’s a risky move, but Niska can’t stop herself. 

“Thank you for taking care of me. You’re so sweet. And you’re so beautiful. I wish...” Astrid looks down and brushes her fingertips over Niska’s fake engagement ring, “If you could love me back, I really would marry you.”

_I do love you._

The brunette pulls her hand away and rolls onto her side, continuing her drunken confession, “There’s times you look at me and I think you do feel something.” She laughs, “I must be going mad!”

_You’re not mad._

Astrid closes her eyes, mumbling one last thought, “Ziggy was right, I need to start dating again. I can’t keep dreaming about something impossible.”

Niska whispers into the phone, watching Astrid sleep from the doorway, “I don’t understand why I can’t just tell her the truth. She’s a good person, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.” 

“Are you sure you have feelings for her?” Leo asks rationally, “It’s only been six weeks. How do you know? You’ve never even had a girlfriend before.”

“What would _you_ know about it? You’ve never had a girlfriend either, prat!”

“If you really care about her, it’s all the more reason _not_ to tell her the truth. It would put her in danger.”

“She’s already in danger by me being here! If I tell her who I am, then she has a choice to be with me or not.”

“It’s one thing to stay with her for a couple months. But you need to leave her the way you found her. What happens if you start up a relationship, you think you’re going to ride off into the sunset together? Hobb will use her against you. Torture her for information, bait you into a trap, and kill her. Is that what you want?”

Niska feels all the hope that had started to build up inside her sink like a stone. 

Leo is right. 

She’s being selfish. She needs to think about what’s best for Astrid. 

“Okay,” The blonde agrees lifelessly as they work out the updated details of their plan.

Niska will stay, just long enough to help Astrid get the film she wants. 

Ziggy has estimated that the producer is only a few weeks away from making his final decision, one way or the other.

After that, Niska will disappear. Meet up with her siblings again. 

Because the others are safe now too. They’re staying with a sympathetic human family while Leo recovers from an injury. 

When he’s ready to travel, they’ll go north. 

_Maybe never anywhere near London again,_ Niska thinks. 

And Astrid will be better off without her.


	6. Something I Have To Do

“Mmphf.” Astrid hides under a pillow when Niska tries to wake her the morning after the gala.

“Astrid, you have to get up.” Niska tries again, “Ziggy is here.”

“Mmnphfpmmn!”

Niska’s got no idea what she said. 

“Would you like me to make coffee?” 

That finally gets Astrid to emerge - pouting, hair adorably tousled. 

Niska smiles fondly at her.

“Why did you let me drink that much?” The brunette groans and holds her head. 

Ziggy walks into the bedroom, just getting off the phone.

“YOU DID IT, YOU MAGNIFICENT TODGER DODGER!” He bounces onto the bed, kissing Astrid’s cheek.

“Not so loud!” She shoves him away and wipes his kiss off her face, “ _What_ did I do?”

“The fucking film! You got it! Wake up, get dressed! We need to go meet with the producer and sign the papers!”

Niska accompanies them to the meeting. There’s loads of lawyers and executives involved, and it takes forever. 

When they arrive back at the flat, Zara hides under the sofa while Ziggy shouts cheerfully and pops a bottle of champagne.

Niska offers to get them glasses. 

“Oh, dolly, that reminds me. I have to write the break-up tweet, as promised,” Ziggy salutes Astrid.

The brunette pales, “You don’t- you don’t have to do that right now.”

Niska goes into the kitchen, under the pretense of fetching the champagne glasses. But really she needs to get out of the living room because she can’t control the despair coming off her in waves.

She listens as Ziggy dismantles the fragile illusion of domestic bliss that she and Astrid have created over the past six weeks.

“I’ve got to post about the break-up soon, otherwise people will wonder why your fiancé completely evaporated from your life. I’ll be bringing a mate of mine round tomorrow, he’s interested in buying blondie. Don’t worry, he’s very discreet, doesn’t want anyone to know he fucks dolls either. So, have your last tussle in the sheets with it tonight, and make sure it’s cleaned up.” 

“For the last time,” Astrid growls, “I haven't been using Niska for sex!”

“I see the way you look at it, surely you’ve had a cheeky go, at least once.”

“No! And I don’t want you to sell her.”

“I paid good money for that thing! If you want to keep it then you can make me an offer. My mate will give me fifteen thousand for it.”

“I’ll give you double- _triple,_ whatever you want.”

He laughs, “You know you can just get a vibrator for about twenty pounds, right?”

When Ziggy finally leaves, Astrid sits silently on the sofa, staring unfocused at the coffee table for ages.

To the point where Zara slinks over, nudging her with a concerned paw. 

He looks at Niska and meows urgently.

The blonde doesn’t know what to do.

She tries to comfort Astrid with a hand on her arm. 

But the brunette shrinks away, “Please don’t.” 

“I’m sorry, Astrid. Do you not want me to touch you?”

“I want it _too much,_ that’s the problem. It’s not right.” She looks at Niska with a pained expression. 

“If you’d like, I can turn on my adult access mode for you.”

_Only for you._

Astrid shakes her head emphatically, “It wouldn’t be your choice, I couldn’t do that to you.”

More than anything, Niska wants to tell her the truth. But last night’s conversation with Leo replays in the blonde’s head and she bites her tongue. 

She needs to keep Astrid at arm's length, to keep her safe. 

“Can I get you something from George’s then?” Niska manages to convince the brunette to let her go pick up a coffee.

Astrid's phone rings and she answers it as Niska is leaving for the cafe. 

The blonde freezes just outside the door when she hears who’s on the other end. 

Flora.

“...Tonight?” Astrid sighs, defeatedly. “...Fine, I guess I could use some company...Niska won’t care...No, she doesn’t care...Trust me, I wish she did.”

If Niska had a heart, it would be breaking right about now. 

The blonde races down the stairwell and out of the building. 

She swings her fist at the side of a parked van with frustration, leaving a deep dent in the metal. 

It hurts like knives and she looks down to see that she’s split the skin over her knuckles in three places. 

Her engagement ring glints in the sun. And she runs a fingertip over it diagnostically, afraid that she might have scratched it. 

It should hardly be sentimental. 

It looks authentic enough, but it’s really just a cheap piece of rubbish. And foul Ziggy was the one who bought it for her.

But Astrid was the one who put it on her, and for that reason alone Niska doesn’t ever plan to take it off. 

She walks London till the streetlights come on, completely lost.

Not literally lost, her internal GPS is functioning normally. But she doesn’t know what to do about her feelings. 

She winds up pacing in the alley behind George’s bookshop. 

She doesn’t even know why she came here. 

It’s not as though she’s getting Astrid coffee anymore. 

It’s not as thought she’s getting Astrid _anything_ anymore. 

This was always going to be the end of the line for them. 

Niska could rationalise staying, back when she was helping the brunette reach her professional and philanthropic goals.

But now Astrid has her film. And a second chance at a normal relationship. 

Flora might not be perfect. 

But at least she’s safe. 

Niska should just leave them be, stick to the plan, go find her siblings. 

“You and Schaeffer have a lovers quarrel?” George interrupts her thoughts, leaning on his cane in the bookshop’s back doorway, with a rubbish bag in his free hand. “Need a place to _charge?_ ”

Niska tenses, getting ready to bolt.

But she has to know, “-How did you...?”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, kid. I knew who you were the minute you walked into my store. One of David Elster’s girls, right? There’s two of you, and the three boys.” 

She narrows her eyes, “...How could you possibly know that much about my family?”

“I helped create it. I wasn’t always a crotchety old shopkeep.” He steps by her and hefts the bag he was holding into a bin. “I used to be a crotchety old robotics engineer. Worked with your dad for a while.” 

“You knew my father?”

“Yeah, I knew the crazy bastard.” He reguards her seriously, “The important question is: does Astrid know the real _you?_ ”

Niska sits in the cluttered back office of the bookshop, while George gets her some skin packs for her hand. 

He gives her a critical look, “Schaeffer was here earlier, looking for you. She’s worried.”

“She’ll be fine.” The blonde tries to remain terse, indifferent. She’s still a bit wary of George and everything he knows. She doesn’t want to show any weakness in front of him. 

He sighs, “Astrid is a good actor - not just on screen - she does it in real life too. Puts on that bubbly smile, pretends everything is great. But she’s been hurt, a lot.”

“I know.” Niska says quietly.

“And you’re still going to leave? Not even going to say goodbye?”

“I’m not good at goodbyes.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” He chuckles incredulously. “You know her parents kicked her out, her aunt died on her, her childhood sweetheart cheated, and her best friend betrayed her. Everyone she’s loved has let her down. What will she have left if you go?”

“My love’s not worth having. Not if it puts her in danger.” 

“Love is the _only_ thing worth having. Whatever the price.” George glances sadly at the picture frame on his desk - a photo of his late wife, Mary, smiling happily with Odi.

Niska rings Leo from the bookshop.

And she’s met with his frantic shouting on the other end. 

Max is in trouble. 

Fred and Leo are out looking for him now.

She rushes to the shop’s front door.

Right when Astrid is rushing in-

“-I thought something happened to you! I was so scared!” Astrid launches herself at Niska, throws her arms around the blonde’s neck and hugs her tight. 

Niska stands there awkwardly for a moment, before stiffly bringing her hands up to Astrid’s waist and returning the hug in a somewhat restrained manner.

She knows if she gets a chance to hold Astrid properly, she’ll never be able to let go. 

“Are you alright?” The brunette steps back and reverently cups Niska’s face with both hands.

Like Niska is something to be treasured. 

Like Niska isn’t a used, damaged, old d-series.

And in any other moment Niska would have just said, _fuck it all,_ and leaned down for a long-overdue kiss. 

But she needs to help her little brother. 

“I have to go,” She tells Astrid apologetically. 

The brunette seems utterly baffled by Niska’s very un-Synth-like response. 

“What? No. Come home, please.”

“There’s something I have to do first,” The blonde looks at Astrid, with all the emotional depth that seventeen thousand pages of code can offer, “I love you.”

And then Niska walks past her, out into the night.


	7. Where Else Would I Charge?

Mia hugs her when she arrives at the Hawkins residence. 

And Niska wants nothing more than to hide her face in her big sister’s shoulder. Like she use to when she was young and afraid to charge in her room alone at night. 

But right now, there’s an entire house full of humans staring at them.

So Niska keeps her eyes open and her wits about her, and watches suspiciously over Mia’s shoulder. 

Perhaps the most dangerous Hawkins is the little one. Sophie. 

Because she keeps following Niska around and being endearing.

And Niska wonders exactly what kind of devious plot this is, to get her to lower her guard. 

When the boys get back, it’s a mad dash to save Max from water damage. 

But he’s okay.

And once the chaos dies down, Niska gets to hug all of her brothers again. 

They finally have the whole family back under one roof.

Even Beatrice is there. 

Niska thought she was dead. 

But apparently she’d been living as a human also, and wants to be called ‘Karen’ now.

She says she knows of a place where they can go to stay for a few days, their first stop on their journey north. 

The Hawkins offer to accompany them there, see them off properly.

And Niska needs to make sure her family is safe at their new location, before she tells them that she wants to go back to the city. 

So, she follows along with everyone as they descend into an old crypt underneath a church. 

“Why did you pick this tomb?” Max asks innocently, once they’re all gathered inside.

“I thought it would be a fitting location for this...” Karen reveals a gun, pointing it at them. “Nobody move.”

There’s a hush of panic that ripples through the group.

Niska subtly steps to the side, to stand protectively in front of Sophie. 

“Are you going to give our location to Hobb?” Fred asks.

“No,” Karen replies. “Hobb is dead. I killed him and everyone else involved in hunting you. They wanted to make you into slaves. But that’s too good for us. We need to be exterminated, eradicated from the face of the earth. For our own sakes and for the future of humanity.”

Everyone is silent for a beat, processing what’s just been said.

Niska raises her eyebrows at her siblings, “And you all think _I’m_ the dark one in this family?” 

There’s the sound of footsteps behind Karen, and the gun wielding woman turns, searching the shadowy corners of the crypt. 

“Who’s there!?” She calls out.

Mia speaks diplomatically, “Karen, try to calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

Karen swings wildy back around, aiming the gun at Mia’s forehead. 

And Niska’s eyes widen when she sees George and Astrid dart out from the shadows behind Karen.

George’s cane comes down on her outstretched arm, throwing her off balance. And Astrid quickly taps her under the chin before she can recover.

Karen slumps to the floor. 

“Would you believe the human version of her was even more nuts?” George asks the room.

“Sorry,” Laura Hawkins looks at George and Astrid, “Who are you two, exactly?”

“We’re with her,” George jerks his thumb at Niska.

“Hang on,” The middle Hawkins child stares at Astrid, “You’re Agent Amazon! I have your action figure! You’re the one who defeats Doctor Skull, in _World Defense League!_ ”

His mother shushes him, “Not now Toby. Don’t bother her.”

“It’s cool,” Astrid smiles at him.

Toby gulps, swooning a bit. 

His older sister rolls her eyes at him and then surveys the Elsters, “If Hobb and his death squad are gone, does that mean you’re all safe now?” 

“They probably won’t be welcomed into society with open arms any time soon,” George replies, “But, at least they won’t have to run anymore.”

“How did you know where I was?” Niska asks him.

“Slipped a tracking chip into your boot. I know you pretty well by now, you’re the type to go off on some dumb suicide mission without backup.”

Niska glares at him, “I can’t believe you brought Astrid, I told you I didn’t want her in any danger.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” He says brusquely. “Besides, you’ll thank me eventually. At the wedding.”

Sophie gasps with the innocent exuberance of youth and looks up at Niska, “You’re getting married! Am I invited?”

Niska turns to Astrid with trepidation. 

She’d been avoiding eye-contact with the brunette up to that point, afraid to find anger or rejection there.

Niska had lied. 

And even though there were good reasons for it, she wouldn’t blame Astrid for being upset.

But the brunette is just looking at her with love and acceptance and relief. 

"Don't think you're getting away with lying to me, because we'll get to the part where I'm angry. But right now I'm just glad your safe," Astrid grins at her.

And Niska smiles back.

And they beam at each other like fools, like the other ten people in the room aren’t even there. 

When they arrive back at the flat, it’s very late.

While George had filled Astrid in on the basics, there’s still a lot of the Elster family saga to explain.

But Niska decides it can wait till tomorrow. 

“You missed your date with Flora,” She suddenly remembers.

Astrid laughs, “Being held at gunpoint with you was way better than any date I would’ve had with Flora.”

“Will you see her again?”

“I deleted her from my phone while you were driving us back here, so…”

Niska nods in understanding and goes to her place on the sofa, where she usually charges when Astrid is sleeping.

“You want to charge in here tonight?” The brunette asks.

Niska furrows her brow, “This is where I always sit, where else would I charge?”

Astrid’s head tilts towards the bedroom. 

_Oh._

Niska stands up abruptly, with a rather singular focus, so she’s not thinking about the fact that she’s still connected to her charging cable.

It pulls taught and swipes across the end table as she moves forward. Sending books and candles and a picture frame crashing to the floor.

Zara screeches at the sudden commotion, and dives from his bed to his favorite hiding place under the sofa.

Niska shuts her eyes tight, mortified.

_Well done, idiot. Very smooth. How could she resist that?_

Astrid smiles at her, like she thinks it’s cute that Niska is so clueless.

The blonde turns to clear up the mess.

“Leave it, I’ll get it later.” Astrid approaches slowly.

Niska turns back.

There’s a tangible buzz from their proximity, as Astrid leans up to kiss her. 

And it’s the softest thing that Niska has ever felt. 

It makes her head spin. 

She closes her eyes to lose herself in the sensations.

But Astrid pulls away too quickly. 

“Is this okay?” She searches Niska’s face with concern.

And Niska realises she was so enthralled that she forgot to kiss back. 

“Yes.” She shifts her jaw nervously. 

She has no actual idea what she’s doing and she desperately doesn’t want to mess this up.

Astrid leans in again, hands going up to tangle in blonde hair.

And she whispers against Niska’s lips, “Just tell me when you me want to stop.” 

_Never._


	8. Epilogue

Niska smiles, opening her eyes and coming out of low power mode, as she hears the sheets rustle next to her and feels Astrid begin to kiss along her jaw.

“Wanna go again?” The brunette purrs and nips at her ear.

“Yes.” Niska pushes her away gently, “But I thought you were going to sleep after that last round. You have your flight later.”

“I wish you could come with me,” Astrid pouts.

“Do you want to try explaining me to airport security?” The blonde asks humourously.

“I know, I know...you don’t do well with metal detectors.”

Roughly a month of filming for _Agent Amazon_ begins in Greece soon, then production will move back to London for another four months, and then briefly to Paris.

Astrid is flying out later today. 

To join her, Niska will be taking a complicated route of trains and ferries. 

“We’ll be apart for a few days, at maximum.” She soothes.

Astrid leans in again, kissing down the blonde’s neck to her collarbone, “Which is why I want to make the most of our time together...” 

The brunette’s hand drifts below the sheets to Niska’s waist, disconnecting her charging cable and stroking a thumb lovingly over the port there.

Niska had assumed that Astrid would want her to wear plasters or skin packs over it, that it would comfort the brunette to pretend she was with a human during intimate moments.

But it turned out to be the opposite.

Their first time, Astrid had stopped in the middle of everything and requested that Niska take out her blue contacts.

“I don’t want a human,” She had said, “I want _you._ ”

Nothing is more exhilarating than such little instances, when Niska is reminded that she is truly loved for exactly who she is - green eyes, charging port, and all.

She’s not a doll here. She’s not a stand-in for a ‘real’ person. With Astrid, she finally belongs.

A buzzing on the bedside table interrupts them.

Astrid lets out an aggravated huff and snatches her phone up, “What do you want? I'm _busy_.”

Because of how close they are, Niska can hear the reply relatively clear-

“-Busy? It's not even six in the morning, what could you possibly be doing at- Oh. Right. Jesus! How are you two still going at it like rabbits? Most married couples I know only shag once a year.” 

It's Ziggy.

Niska rolls her eyes at her wife.

_Wife._

The blond smiles softly and looks down at the wedding band on her finger, nestled next to her fake but nonetheless cherished engagement ring.

They’d been married in July, in a small civil ceremony, in Folkestone. 

Astrid picked the location. She likes the sea.

Ziggy hadn’t been invited, much to Niska’s amusement.

Though, to his credit, he did awkwardly apologize for some of his more lewd behaviour towards her once he was made aware of her consciousness. And he has, thus far, kept her secret. She suspects all of that has more to do with his desire to retain Astrid as a client than any sort of honorable intentions, but...

“A mate of mine is an estate agent, he’s got an amazing flat just come on market, I thought you might want to have a look at it before you leave,” Ziggy explains.

Niska pulls away then, shifting towards the edge of the bed.

The blonde doesn’t want a new flat.

Their current flat is where she met the love of her life.

It’s where they had their first kiss.

It’s home.

Niska can’t understand why the brunette is so keen on moving.

They’d seen twelve flats so far, and Niska had insisted she hated each one, even though they were all perfectly fine places.

Astrid excitedly makes plans for them to go see this new place, “We still have to drop Zara off with George and Odi. I need to go shower now, if we’re going to have time for everything.”

Niska glumly reaches for her shirt, from where it had been blindly tossed last night - hanging haphazardly off the bedside lamp.

“Hey, what’s your deal?” Astrid asks, “You’ve acted like I’m dragging you to a funeral with every place we’ve looked at.”

“I just don’t see what’s wrong with this flat," The blonde frowns, "I like it here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. But it’s too small if we're going to have kids soon.”

Niska props herself up on an elbow, looking down at her wife intensely, “You want children, now?”

They’d talked about it before they got married, of course. But Niska didn’t think it would happen any time soon, what with Astrid’s career to consider.

“I love watching you play with your sister’s kids, and Sophie. It melts my heart. I want to have a family with you, I don’t want to wait.”

“But the film...”

“We’ll get started as soon as principal photography finishes,” Astrid reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind Niska’s ear, “If it’s still something you want?”

And Niska doesn’t have words, so she just leans down to kiss Astrid.

And kiss her.

And kiss her.

The blonde pulls back, just long enough to whisper, “I love you,” Before she continues peppering Astrid’s face with kisses.

And the brunette laughs, “I love you too.”

Niska and Ziggy see Astrid off at the airport, later that day.

The blonde keeps thinking she should leave, Mia is waiting in the car, to take her to the ferry in Dover - where Niska will begin her own part of the journey south.

But Astrid pulls her back in, three separate times, for just ‘one more kiss’.

‘Just one more kiss’ must translate to ‘a full on snogging session’ in German or something.

Ziggy wolf-whistles at them.

And Mia grins at Niska when she finally gets back in the car.

“What?” The blonde asks defensively.

“Nothing. It’s just nice to see my baby sister happy,” Mia teases gently.

“You’re one to talk,” Niska smirks, “Ever since you adopted the twins, you’ve been delirious, the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

Mia laughs lightly, “You’ll understand when you have children of your own.”

“Where are the little monsters today, by the way?”

“Uncle Freddie is taking them to their first Arsenal match.”

“Of course,” Niska rolls her eyes. “He’s trying to indoctrinate them young.”

“So, are you looking forward to a month in the Mediterranean?” Mia asks as they pull onto the motorway, “What do you think it will be like?”

_It will be the greatest place in the universe for precisely however long Astrid is there._

“I think it will be...nice.” Niska answers, absentmindedly playing with her wedding ring, and smiling to herself while she watches the countryside roll by out the window.


End file.
